Snapshots
by fireblazie
Summary: Memories of various times in their lives. [EdxWinry]
1. Snapshots of Her

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Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.

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Snapshot

Snapshots of Her

When she smiled, it eased his pain, little by little. It made him feel like he wasn't responsible for this whole mess... him, losing an arm and a leg; Alphonse, losing his whole body. It made him forget that his mother had ever left. That she was still here, with them.

When she laughed, it was like the sound of bells. It made him want to laugh, too, something he hadn't done in a long time.

When she cried, he felt like he would do anything, **anything**, to bring her smile back.

He loved her smile, and he would go to the ends of the earth and back to see it.

"Ed?" Winry tilted her head back from her spot on his lap. "What are you thinking about?"

He grinned. "You."

---

The first time they kissed was in front of the remains of his house. He had come back for a brief holiday, intending to go back after a few days. He always went back to sit in front of the debris that had once been his house, just to sit and mull things over. He would go sit in front of his mother's grave, as well.

He hadn't expected to find her there before him.

"What are you doing here?" He couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice.

"I dunno." Winry stood up, brushing dust from her skirt. "Feeling nostalgic, I guess."

"Oh." Edward knelt down, feeling around at the clumps of dirt and ash. "You know, it surprised me that they never cleaned all this junk up."

Her face colored pink, "They tried to."

"...?" He glanced at her, confused.

"Cleaning crews came," she explained, face growing brighter by the second. "But...I didn't let them clean it up."

Clear as mud. Edward reached up to scratch at the back of his head. "What do you mean?"

"Just like I said." There was a slight edge to her voice, as if daring him to tease her. "They tried to clean it up. But I didn't let them."

Edward blinked, struggling to comprehend. "Why?"

"This was your home," she said, "this was where we played and laughed and got into stupid little fights. And," she added, biting her lip and looking irresistibly cute, Ed couldn't help but notice, "it was the only memory I had left of you." Glaring at him, "You just up and left. I had nothing to remember you by."

He stood up, brushing off dirt from his clothes. "Stupid.."

She took offense at this. "Is it stupid that I wanted to remember you, you --"

She was cut off by his lips on hers.

It wasn't the most romantic thing in the world, but they made up for it plenty of times.

---

Alchemy was his thing, automail was hers. He failed to see what was so interesting and captivating about it, but it had certainly helped him out in his life. And he loved watching her pour her heart out into it.

On lazy Sunday afternoons when he was home, he would lie on the couch, head resting on the armrest. And she would sit at the table, tools scattered all over, working intricately on her latest project. Sometimes, it would be his arm.

If something particularly bothered her, like maybe a screw was out of place or the machine creaked when twisted at a certain angle, she would frown at the offensive machine and take a screwdriver and fix it, somehow.

Sometimes, if something was really frustrating, she'd furrow her brow and her tongue would inch its way out of the corner of her mouth.

Sometimes, she'd run her hands through her hair in exasperation and glare angrily at the object of her frustrations.

And when she'd finally figured out what was wrong, she'd immediately fix it with dead-on precision. Then her mouth would stretch into a smile and her eyes would light up as she turned to him, excited as a little girl, squealing, "I did it! I fixed it!"

God, but he loved her.

---

Edward had been surprised to find out that Winry was afraid of spiders. Somehow, he'd always thought of her as

this brave soul, unafraid of anything.

Not that he wasn't glad to have her jump into his arms when the eight-legged insect crawled in front of her.

"Winry?" His face turned slightly red.

"Spiderspiderspider!" she cried, burying her face in his shoulder. "Oh, kill it! Please?"

Bewildered, Edward stuck out his foot and squashed the bug. He wrinkled his nose upon seeing the squished remains.

"Is it gone?" Winry asked him, timidly.

"It's dead," the alchemist replied.

The blonde automail mechanic warily craned her neck to look. She made a face. "Throw it out."

Still somewhat dazed by this whole episode, Edward grabbed a paper towel, picked up whatever was left of the spider, and dumped it in the trash. It was a rather large spider, he'd realized after, but he'd never known that she was so terrified of them.

"You're afraid of spiders?" he asked, brow furrowed.

Flushing, "Yeah. So? Lots of girls are!"

"You never told me," he said, plainly.

"You never asked."

"Huh." Taking in this new information, Ed sat down on a wooden chair, backwards so that his chest was leaning against the back. "What else are you afraid of?"

Winry refused to meet his eyes. "Stuff."

Edward was enjoying this game. "What kind of 'stuff'?"

She mumbled something incoherently. Ed raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"Cockroaches," he vaguely heard her say, and then, more quietly, "blood."

"Blood?" He failed to comprehend. "But, in your line of work..."

"I learned to get over it," she said, sighing. "But the phobia's still there."

"I never realized." Now the blond alchemist felt guilty. "Have you always been afraid of blood?"

"Not always." Winry sank down into a chair beside him.

"Oh? Then when did it start?"

"Remember when you came in that night? An arm and a leg gone, bleeding all over?"

"Yeah." A cynical grin wove its way to Edward's mouth. "Pretty hard to forget something like that."

Winry smiled, sadly. "That's when it started."

---

One day, one of the neighbors had knocked on the door, asking if Winry would please like to babysit her little girl. Winry had agreed, almost instantly, and Ed felt amused. He had never seen his childhood friend take care of a little toddler before.

Al was out helping Pinako on an errand. It was just the two of them today.

"You're going to help, aren't you?" Despite what it seemed like on the outside, Ed could easily tell that it wasn't a question. It was a command.

Edward didn't feel like testing out Winry's wrench-throwing skills. "...I guess."

"It won't be hard," she reassured him. "I've baby-sat her before. Her name's Rika. She's a sweet, quiet girl. No trouble at all."

Edward still eyed the small three-year-old dubiously. He'd never had much experience with kids.

Winry laughed at this and picked up Rika, holding her close to her chest. "You won't cause a lot of trouble, will you, Rika?"

The small girl, dark hair pulled into pigtails, shook her head. Her thumb was in her mouth. Winry pulled it away with a motherly look on her face, "Hey, your mom said not to do that anymore, remember?"

Ed had sort of crept away after that. Little kids scared him. They had this strange power over adults. Plus, most kids tended to be taller than him anyway, and he didn't need anymore teasing on that matter.

Winry and Rika had decided to stay in the living room for the duration of the day, while Edward escaped to his haven outside. There was a slight breeze, and he enjoyed it. Rarely did he ever have time to just sit back and enjoy things, anyway.

When he felt that it was time to go back inside, he was greeted with a sight that softened even his heart.

Winry was lying on the couch, the small chubby girl in front of her, whose mouth was partly open and snoring quietly. Winry, unaware of Ed's presence, smiled lovingly at the little girl and stroked her hair. She was singing a lullaby.

Winry would make a good mother, he decided, and maybe, he would make a good father, too.

---

It had only been one night -- they had just been caught up in the heat of the moment, in everything -- but it had been enough to change their lives, forever.

The first part was when Winry wrote him a hastily scribbled letter, "I'm late."

Edward had never been so afraid in his life.

A month later, another letter was delivered to him. "I'm late again."

Two weeks later, "Come home. Now."

And he had. Pinako had greeted him, but there was definitely more of a hostile tone in the air. Winry smiled at him, but there was something else in her, too... Fear. Alphonse had an inkling of what was going on, although Edward had stubbornly refused to say anything until he was positive about what was happening.

Pinako was kind enough to let Winry tell Ed on her own, privately.

"Well...?" Ed asked, fearing the answer.

She dropped the bomb. "I'm pregnant."

"Ah."

He didn't know what to say. He settled for staring down at his feet.

"You're going to leave," she said, voice strange. "You're going to go off, look for that Philosopher's Stone of yours, and just leave me. Here. Alone."

"Winry..."

"It's true, right? I don't expect you to stay here, just because you've got a kid..."

"Shut up." He stood up, eyes steely. She jerked in surprise.

"Ed?"

"I'm not a cold heartless bastard," he told her, voice even. "I'm not going to leave you to raise **my** kid alone."

_I love you too much for that_.

There were tears in her eyes, and he cringed, faltering.

"Look," he said, voice quiet. "I...I am going to have to go away for a little while."

She looked down.

"But I'll come back. A lot." He stepped closer to her and brushed away the tears from her eyes. He hated to see her cry. "And I'll definitely be here when she's born." Something inside him told him it would be a girl.

There was hope in her eyes. "You promise?" She held up a pinky.

He stared at it for awhile, but then smiled and interlocked his pinky with hers. "Promise."

When they came out of the room, Edward was greeted with Pinako's piercing stare. It was funny, he thought, gulping, that someone so short could be so intimidating. In the back of his mind, he wondered if he ever looked that scary.

"I'm assuming you'll be getting married soon?" The elderly woman deadpanned.

Edward sweatdropped. "...married?"

Pinako shot him a Look.

The blond alchemist glanced at his longtime childhood friend out of the corner of his eye. He'd known her for so long. From childhood friends, to more, and now... this. She was blushing.

He felt a surge of confidence.

"Sure, I'll marry her. That is, if she'll have me."

Winry lit up.

It was the hardest thing, having to walk away from her. He kissed her briefly, and his hands lingered against hers, trying to engrave this feeling into his heart. He whispered a brief goodbye, a solemn promise, and he never looked back, because he knew that if he did, he would never be able to leave.

They said that when it rained, it meant that God was crying.

It was raining.

__

All I can do is just to love you from so far away

On this rainy, rainy day...

End of "Snapshots of Her."

Song used is "Rainy Day" by Crystal Kay. Next chapter, "Snapshots of Him." This is my first time writing something in a sort of "drabble" format. How am I doing?


	2. Snapshots of Him

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Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.

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Snapshot

Snapshots of Him

There were times when even Edward Elric revealed the more vulnerable side of him. Such occurences were rare, of course, and only the people closest to him were able to catch even a glimpse.

"Ahh.." Winry grinned triumphantly at the finished automail product. Her stomach grumbled; it had been hours since she'd eaten. She stood up, walking towards the kitchen when snoring sounds caught her ear.

She blinked. Yes. Definitely snoring sounds.

She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, searching for the source of the sounds. They were coming from the couch. Winry strode over to it, and peered over.

And couldn't stop the smile from spreading over her face.

There he was, lying on the sofa, head resting on the armrest, belly button exposed, mouth open, drool sliding down his chin, completely oblivious of his surroundings.

"So uncool," Winry murmured, but leaned down to give him a kiss anyway.

---

They had made plans to go out to dinner one night, and an hour before, an automail leg needing small repairs had come in for her. Never one to procrastinate, Winry promised that she would finish this as quickly as she could and that they'd be out of the house in an hour, an hour and a half at the most.

Ed hadn't looked happy -- he knew how obsessed she could get with automail -- but shrugged and complied. She kissed him, and immediately started on her work.

True enough, forty-five minutes later, Winry held up the automail leg up against the sun, scrutinized it, nodded happily, and set it down on the table, amongst other tools. She stood up and stretched, back sore.

"Ed?" she called. The alchemist was nowhere to be seen.

No reply.

"Ed?" she called again, louder this time.

No answer.

Growing impatient, the automail mechanic screeched, "EDWARD ELRIC!"

Finally, a muffled response: "In here!"

About time, Winry thought, rolling her eyes. She followed the source of the voice, inside the guest room, which Ed and Al shared whenever they came to visit. She turned the knob, "Come on --" Blinking stupidly, "what are you doing?"

"Playing cards," Edward answered, simply. Cards were scattered over the tousled sheets of the unmade bed. Winry blinked, again, and then made her way over to him, sitting at the foot of the bed and making sure not to sit on any of the cards.

"I see." She watched him for awhile. "What are you playing?"

"Solitaire," came the reply. He glanced up at her. "It's the only game you can play by yourself."

A pang of guilt shot through her. Those golden eyes of his always managed to do that. "Hey.." She reached out for him, "I'm sorry. But I'm done now. We can go."

"Mm.." He didn't move, and Winry recognized that he didn't want to leave anymore. She sighed. Then, getting an idea, she swept up all the cards from the bed, ignoring his protests. She shuffled the cards deftly, not even having to look down at them.

"One game of blackjack," she said. "If you win, we stay. If I win, we go."

He raised his eyebrows, eyes glinting as he pondered the proposal. "Sounds good to me."

She smiled, placing the stack of cards in front of him. "Cut the deck."

He did so. Winry retrieved the cards, and without looking at the, put one card in front of him and one in front of her, both face-down.

"Two," he said, revealing a two of clubs.

"Ten," she replied, showing a ten of diamonds. She gazed at him questioningly.

"Hit me," he said, unflinchingly. She dealt another pair of cards, one for him, one for her.

"Ace." He held up the ace of spades, an upside-down black heart. "That's an eleven, right?"

"Uh-huh," she answered. She flipped her own card, "Three." A three of clubs.

"Hit me," he said, once more. She grinned as she did so.

"Five," he stated.

"Ah...ace." Winry's face fell as she held the ace of hearts between her fingers. "You win." She pouted, though she really didn't mind staying at home with him. As she gazed at him, she saw that his face looked odd, strained, as he took the ace of hearts from her. "Ed?"

"It reminds me of us," he said, quietly.

She waited patiently for him to continue.

"These two cards," he explained, wryness crossing his face, "a black heart, tainted. And a blossoming red heart, innocent."

She wrapped her arms around him, and he said no more.

---

It was no secret that Edward was not very fond of milk. Understatement of the year, perhaps, but Winry never gave up. Everytime he came home, she'd cook his meals for him, always accompanied with a cup of milk.

And every single time, he'd scarf down her cooking -- which pleased her greatly -- but never even touch the glass of milk that sat waiting for him at the table.

"Drink it," she'd say, hint of a threat in her tone.

"No," he'd reply, bluntly.

"Drink. It." And her hand would clasp around her wrench tightly.

"No." And he'd lock eyes with her, his piercing golden orbs always causing her to falter. Then she'd give him a smack on the head with her wrench, he'd mutter colorful curses under his breath, and in the end she'd be the one to down the glass.

"Fine then," she'd snap at him, "you can be short for the rest of your life!"

"Bleh." He'd stick his tongue out at her, and that would be the end of the discussion. Somewhere inside of her, Winry always knew that it was futile trying to get him to ever drink milk. But she would never back down, and neither would he.

He never, ever drank milk. He despised it with a passion. And that was probably one of the main reasons for his, well, vertically challenged issues.

Perhaps he would never grow to be taller than her. But that was fine with her. Ed was Ed was Ed.

Which was why she was so surprised when she'd looked up -- UP! -- at him one day. He was now one, maybe even two inches taller than her.

"You're taller than me now," she'd told him, wonderingly.

"Told you I'd grow," he'd retorted, grinning slyly. He could rest his chin on top of her head, but only if he craned his neck back, which felt strained and uncomfortable. She laughed.

But the next time he'd come home -- almost a year later -- he was able to do it with ease. She looked up at him as he rested his chin on her head, no strain or extra effort whatsoever. She could breathe in his scent, uniquely his.

"Perfect fit," he said, and she agreed.

---

One time, he'd called her into Central because he'd done something or other to ruin his automail. Again. After their customary greetings -- Winry beating him into a near-bloody pulp with her wrench, Edward making halfhearted apologies and curses -- Winry yanked the arm out of its socket and placed it on the large, wooden desk. She took out her bag of tools, scattering them all over the table.

"I can't believe this," she gaped at the arm disbelievingly. "What did you do?!"

He turned away and muttered something. Winry thought about persisting the matter, but then realized that she probably didn't want to know anyway.

Silence rested upon them as she pounded and hammered away at his arm. But she didn't mind, and he knew he didn't, either. Simply being together was more than enough. They didn't need words.

When the repairs had been made, she gave him a slight, unnecessary warning before reattaching the automail limb to his shoulder. He jolted, uttered a stifled scream, and then froze, breathing heavily. His eyes were clenched shut.

"Ahh.." He opened his eyes, "never did get used to that part."

She smiled, sadly, before taking his hands, both of them, in hers.

"You're always hurting yourself," she told him quietly. "It hurts me, too, you know."

His eyes flickered, and he pulled her close to him. "I know. And I'm sorry."

She shook her head, kissed him on the mouth, and leaned into his embrace.

---

The first time he told her he loved her, she froze and ran away. She didn't know why. Her legs carried her, as fast as they could, away, away, away. Within minutes, though, he'd already found her. He didn't yell. He didn't scream. He just looked at her, questioningly, silently. She couldn't bring herself to even look at him.

"Why did you run?" he asked quietly, a tone of voice he never used. She hated it. She preferred it when he was shouting and blabbering about something she barely understood.

"I " she mumbled, staring down.

He laughed dryly. "Bolting out of there like that, and you say you didn't run? I gotta say, you're a horrible liar."

Winry found the strength to look up, eyes damp. "I'm sorry." She couldn't stand his joking tone. It was masking the pain he felt. "I'm sorry."

His eyes softened when they saw her tears. She knew he hated it when she cried; she tried not to do it too often, but...

"Why did you run?" he asked again.

"Because..." She played with a blade of grass. "I don't want... you to love me." She felt his confusion, and went on before he could interrupt, "I just want you to stay. I don't need your love, as long as you stay. If you just say it, but then leave for God knows how long, then...then.." She knew his feelings for her were genuine, but with his sense of determination, and his desire to find the Philosopher's Stone and to make things right again...

"Winry.." He reached for her. "I can't say that I'll be here for every single little thing. But I will never leave you. I will never abandon you. I will never run away." He drew her to him so that she was resting her head on his shoulder. She could hear the strength in his voice, and it comforted her.

He drew away so that they were eye to eye.

"I'm not my father," he said, softly.

---

"Dance with me," she once requested, out of the blue. They were sitting underneath the shady tree outside, atop a hill. The ripples of the water reflected the sun's rays. He turned, blinking.

"What?"

"Dance with me," she repeated.

"...no." There was a slight pause before he said this, which was because he was checking to see if she had her wrench handy.

"Why not?" She furrowed her brow.

"I... don't... dance." The response sounded stupid to her. And very cliché, at that.

"Why do all the boys say that?" she wondered out loud. "There's nothing wrong with dancing."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Have you been asking other boys to dance?"

She laughed at the expression on his face. "Of course not. But boys never dance. Not out of their own free will, anyway."

He chose not to reply, mostly because he knew she was right.

She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. It was hot out, so he'd taken off his red jacket. He'd drawn up his left arm's sleeve, and had taken off the glove on that hand. But he'd kept the glove on his right hand, as well as his sleeve down. On impulse, she reached over and took his right arm. She pulled the sleeve up to his elbow, and caressed the warm metal, warm from the sun. When she looked up, he was gazing at her with something akin to sadness and longing in his eyes.

"Sorry," she murmured. Had she done something to make him sad?

Some of the sadness evaporated, but not all. "It's not your fault," he told her.

"Why do you hide it?" she questioned.

"People would ask too many questions," was the wry reply. "And then, they'd catch onto Al, and I couldn't let them do that..."

She cut him off. "No, not them. Why do you hide it here? From me?"

He opened his mouth, and then closed it. She patiently waited for him. She always did.

"You're...not ashamed?" he asked, voice low.

"No!" She was shocked that he could even think such a thing. "Why would I be?"

"To be seen with me? With metal limbs?"

"God, Ed.." Winry shook her head furiously. "You're more of a man than anyone else I've ever known! You're the youngest state alchemist in history! And I..." she trailed off. "I **made** those limbs. For you." She stopped. How to tell him that she put all her heart and effort, and lost dozens of hours of sleep to repair his arm and leg... Because it was like the only way she could help him..

He was looking at her strangely now. But somewhere in those golden eyes of his, she could see some sort of knowing look.

Then he stood up, whipping off the glove on his right hand and tugging his right arm sleeve upward. He held out his right arm to her.

"Dance with me?" he asked.

She smiled.

---

The last nine months had been torture. The first months had brought forth the morning sickness, and then the cravings, and the mood swings. Oh, the mood swings.

She kept him updated, of course, writing leters to him nearly every week, waiting anxiously for a reply. Each time, he told her to hang in there for awhile more; that he couldn't come back just yet, but that she could count on him being there when the baby was born.

And then came the day.

And still, Edward was nowhere to be found.

It was a windy August afternoon, and Winry hadn't been strong enough to get into the car to go to the doctor herself, so Pinako had sent for the doctor. Winry collapsed on the bed, breathing heavily. Her grandmother dabbed at her forehead with the damp towel every so often. Winry coughed. Who knew it would have hurt so much?!

"It...hurts..." She squeezed at the nearest pillow.

"I know." Pinako set her pipe down on the nightstand, and brushed away some hair from Winry's face.

"Where's Ed?" It was getting so hard to talk. Sweat dripped from her face, her hair, down to the bedsheets.

"I don't know. But I'm sure he's on his way."

"Isn't he...here yet?" She needed him here. She couldn't do this by herself. She needed him..

"No. Not yet. But he will be, I'm sure of it."

Winry forced a smile.

Knocks sounded at the door, and Pinako stood up to open the door. All the while, Winry's hope rose. Was it him? Was he finally here?

But it wasn't. The middle-aged doctor entered the room, medical supplies in a black bag. He checked under the sheets.

"I can see the head," he said, "but just barely. You'll need to push harder."

Winry bit her lip, closed her eyes, and pushed. She did this, over and over, until it felt like every single part of her was about to break. Wasn't it over yet?! And where was Ed?!

"You're about halfway there," the doctor told her. "Keep going. You're doing great."

She couldn't do this.

It hurt too much.

She wanted this baby out of her. Now.

"Push," the doctor instructed her.

"I can't." Tears mixed in with the sweat. "I can't."

The doctor exchanged glances with Pinako.

"Winry," her grandmother tried.

She pushed. Again.

She screamed.

A loud thud, sounds of a door being forced open. A moment later, the vague outlines of a red jacket and a suit of armor registered in her mind. Why was everything so blurry? Her tears. She had been crying.

"Winry!" A pair of gloved hands found hers. Her vision cleared.

"Ed?" Her voice was hoarse.

"It's me." His grip on her hands tightened. "I'm sorry, but there was no time and I just couldn't, and I just got on the next train to home. I didn't tell anyone. Are you okay?"

"No!" she burst out. "I can't do this! I'm not strong enough! I thought I was, but I'm not. I can't do this. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I can't. I just can't."

"Yes, you can." He urged her. His voice was warm and comforting, and he was the calm one, the one in charge. She blinked away the tears, and allowed her eyes to focus on him. "I'm here now."

He was here now.

She held his hand tightly. She forced a smile. "Okay. I'll try again."

_For you. I'll do this for you. For us._

And hours later, Winry clutched a newborn child in her trembling arms. Flecks of blond hair covered the baby's scalp. Her eyes were startlingly gold. She had her father's eyes.

Beside her, Edward gazed in awe at the baby. And at her. At both of them.

"She's beautiful," he whispered.

"I know she is." Winry kissed her daughter -- it felt strange to think something like that -- on the forehead. "Have you thought of a name?"

Edward furrowed his brow. "...no."

Winry smiled, gently. "We can always name her Trisha."

Edward reached over to run his hands over his daughter's hands. "Trisha Nina Maes Elric. Quite a mouthful, hm?"

Winry caught his hand in her own. "But it's perfect," she said.

__

I need somebody to love me, hug me all my life

That's why I came here,

To heaven's kitchen..

End of "Snapshots of Him."

Song used is "Heaven's Kitchen" by Bonnie Pink. The last chapter is coming up next! It'll be called "Snapshots of Them." I'll try to get it out by next week... because we'll be leaving for the holidays, and I doubt I'll get a whole lot of work done.. ;;

Ehh. Their ages are somewhere between 16-20. Yeah. Vague. ;;; Basically, the **last** scenes where Winry's pregnant is like, the present times, which is when they're 20. Before that, they're just random flashbacks in their childhood. Someone asked if there was ever a scene where Winry refused to let people clean up the Elrics' house remains since it was depicted in another story. Truthfully, and I hate to make a big scene, but someone copied off that one scene from me. It was excruciatingly similar to my scene, anyway. ::sighs:: But besides that, I haven't seen any other fanfics with that scene, nor have I seen it in the anime or manga. 'course, I've only watched up to ep 6...

MY COMPUTER CAME DOWN WITH A VIRUS! ::cries:: So I'm stuck using my old one, which is SO SLOW! That explains why I haven't updated and emailed with you guys lately. Be patient, please!!


	3. Snapshots of Them

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist.

Snapshots

Snapshots of Them

Their wedding ceremony was a small, simple and brief one. Of those that were present, there were Pinako, Alphonse, Mustang -- Edward would have preferred to have left him out, but Winry wouldn't hear of it --, Hawkeye, Fury, Havoc, Breda, Falman, and other military personnel, Gracia, Elysia, Izumi and her husband, Armstrong, and, well, a bunch of other people.

It wasn't very surprising to anyone, seeing those two finally walking down the aisle. Edward stood, fidgety, at the front, peering anxiously at the back doors. Al couldn't remember seeing him this intense since he'd taken the state alchemist exam. Tugging on his brother's arm to reassure him that everything was all right, Al could see the faint outline of someone standing in the doorway. In lieu of her real father, the man walking Winry down the aisle was none other than Roy Mustang.

It didn't look like it, but Alphonse was smiling. Winry looked breathtaking, and he could see the effects she had on her brother. She hadn't lost all of the weight she'd gained from her pregnancy, but no one paid attention to it. Her figure had filled out as a result; motherhood suited her.

They reached the front, and Winry gave Mustang a quick hug. "Thank you," she whispered.

He only waved her off, grinning. "Take care of her, you hear?" to Ed.

Edward snorted, "You don't have to tell me."

Nobody -- at least, not Al -- paid attention to the vows or to the priest. All the attention was on the young couple. Everyone had known that it would just be a simple matter of time, but no one had expected it to happen so quickly. Trisha Nina Maes Elric, as they had chosen to name their child, was resting on her great-grandmother's lap.

Then, the final words, "You may kiss the bride."

Edward grinned and lifted the veil. Winry beamed.

Their lips met, and cheers erupted.

---

Despite being a married man, Edward hadn't given up on his journey to find the Philosopher's Stone. It wasn't so much for him as it was for Al. He could live with automail, but he knew that no matter Al denied it, he wanted out of that suit of armor.

And Winry understood this.

Nevertheless, it hurt them both whenever he had to leave.

"Come to Central." Mustang's voice was crisp over the line.

"What? Why?" Edward knew that as a state alchemist, he was a "dog of the military," but he was married now, for crying out loud.

"Don't question me." Mustang rolled his eyes. "You know what? I'll come over there to get you."

Ed furrowed his brow.

He sighed exasperatedly as he slammed the phone down on the hook. Winry gazed at him curiously, holding Trisha in her arms.

"I have to go," he said, voice hollow.

Her heart plummeted. But she couldn't say anything.

"I see." Nothing had changed. Just because they were married now didn't mean that he was going to actually start staying home for longer periods of time. No. All this meant was an extra commitment. And... that he had someone to come home to. "Will you be back soon?"

His voice was firm and strong. "I'll be home as soon as I can."

His wife smiled. "I know you will." Her smile faltered. "When are you leaving? Now?"

"...I don't know," he answered honestly. "Mustang said he'd get me."

"So... you can stay here for a bit longer?" Her voice was hopeful.

Edward smiled. "Yeah."

But the precious time they had left before he was to depart always went by too quickly. Mustang arrived at the front door, carriage waiting. Hawkeye, as always, loyally stood beside him.

"Come on, Fullmetal. Let's go."

"You should go," Winry whispered. "It's got to be important if he came out to get you." She was lying. She didn't want him to leave. She wanted to stay like this forever, with his arms wrapped around her.

"Just a little longer," he mumbled into her hair.

Tears were beginning to form. She pushed him gently away. "The longer you stay, the harder it will be when you leave," she told him, quietly. "You should go."

He saw her tears and realized she was right. He kissed her, slowly, and then smiled.

"I'll be back soon."

Winry smiled back. "I know."

From the window, Mustang almost felt pity rip through him. "Mmmph. Too emotional." He stated, gruffly.

Hawkeye arched an eyebrow. "You want to let him stay, don't you, sir."

"That doesn't matter," he replied, seeing Edward emerge gloomily from the door. "Let's go. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get him back, and we won't have to deal with a lovesick newlywed."

Hawkeye smiled slightly, but said nothing.

---

The first time Trisha got sick, neither Ed nor Winry could sleep. Late into the early morning hours, the two of them stood, on opposite sides of the crib, watching anxiously over their daughter. Pinako had reassured them that it was only a fever, but neither of them could sleep. They were both sitting on eggshells.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" Ed asked.

"Why don't you?" Winry challenged him.

Edward scowled. "Stubborn."

"Same to you," Winry replied. "It's only a fever. She'll be all right. We gave her the medicine. Why don't you go to sleep?"

"Why don't you?" Ed shot back, using Winry's previous tone of voice.

They engaged in a staring contest, and Winry lost. She always did. There was no way she could hold out against those golden, piercing eyes of his.

"C'mere," Edward suddenly said, gesturing for her to stand closer to him. Too tired to argue, Winry obliged and stood close to him, no more than a few inches apart. He slung an arm around her shoulder. She leaned her head into his chest.

They stood that way until morning.

Once, when Pinako got up in the middle of the night, she saw a light on in Ed, Winry, and Trisha's room. The door was ajar, so she strode over to it to take a peek. She shook her head, but the corners of her mouth twitched up nonetheless: Trisha was sleeping peacefully in her crib; Edward was sitting on the rocking chair, Winry curled up on his lap. They looked remarkably cute together.

Pinako stepped out of the room, turned off the light, and closed the door.

---

Their first argument as a married couple -- obviously, it couldn't be their first argument **ever** -- left the house, literally, in tatters. Winry was steaming, Edward was furious, and Pinako and Al had whisked Trisha away from the violence.

"Do you know why they're so angry?" Alphonse asked the elderly woman.

Pinako sighed and rolled her eyes. "Knowing those two, it could be anything."

In her arms, Trisha wailed.

Eventually, a crowd gathered around the house. Pinako had crept back in earlier to grab a few items for lunch -- the fighting hadn't ceased -- and now she sat, feeding Trisha spoonfuls of baby food.

"What in the world is going on?" one of the women asked, undoubtedly hungry for gossip.

"Who knows?" Pinako shrugged carelessly.

"They're both very angry," Alphonse observed. "I haven't seen them this angry since the time Brother threw Winry's wrench in the lake."

Ominous murmurs.

The house shook forcefully. Something had just been thrown. The villagers winced.

"Shouldn't we -- intervene?"

Al and Pinako shook their heads simultaneously. "Nothing's making me go in there," they stated bluntly.

"But at this rate, nothing will be left of your house!" someone cried.

"And if we go in there, there will be nothing left of **us**," Pinako deadpanned.

Eventually, the crowd dispersed, and by three o'clock, it was just Al, Pinako, and Trisha again. Trisha gurgled, squealing happily, completely oblivious of her parents' little predicament.

The house quivered.

And out stepped Winry, looking triumphant. Beside her, Edward scowled, but was in no condition physically hurt.

Although she wasn't sure she wanted to know, Pinako asked anyway: "What **happened**?"

"I told Ed that we ought to rearrange the furniture in our room," Winry explained happily. "But he was too lazy to do it. So I made him."

Pinako and Alphonse would have liked to ask more, but thought better of it.

---

It finally happened. There had been times when even Edward in his resolute determination doubted the existence of the Philosopher's Stone. What if it had just been some idiot's sick idea of a joke? What if it wasn't real?

Blood trickled down his shoulder, his back, his legs. Beside him, his brother, physically ten-years-old, supported him with as much strength as he could muster.

"Brother," he whispered.

"I'm fine, Al." His voice was hoarse and weak. He blinked his eyes open, but everything was too hazy to see clearly. "Where are we?"

"Close to Central," came the reply. "I'm taking you to see Mustang."

"Can we go home?" The request was so simple, so meek.

"We will. We have to see Mustang first."

"We need to go home as soon as we can." Edward coughed. "To see... I want to show her..."

"We will," Alphonse repeated. The steps outside the military building were longer than ever. There was the first step, then the second, third...

"Hey, what's a kid.." Havoc frowned. "Fullmetal Boss?"

"This is Edward Elric," Al cried out, grateful to see a familiar face, "and I'm Alphonse Elric. We... we need to see Mustang, please!"

"I..." Havoc withdrew the cigarette from his mouth, "Alright, let's go." He picked up Edward with ease -- even though he had grown quite a bit, he still hadn't reached Havoc's height -- and started.

"His arm," he said, blinking.

"Please take us to Mustang," Al repeated, certain that he was the one to talk to first.

They reached Mustang's office, where Havoc promptly deposited the half-conscious alchemist. Mustang, for once, was at a loss for words, and settled for, "Wow."

"He needs help," Al said, "please help him!"

"Right." The tall, dark-haired man stood up and strode to the door. "First Lieutenant, please take these boys to the hospital."

"Yes, sir." The blonde started to take Edward under her arm, but he refused to budge.

"Take me...home."

"You have to go get your wounds treated first," Mustang told him, not unkindly.

"No." The Fullmetal Alchemist struggled to stand up on his own, but failed to do so. "I have to... I have to go home..."

"Do you think she'd want to see you like this?" Mustang's voice was low, but not harsh.

"Like...what?"

There was a pause. Muffled sounds.

"Edward.." Hawkeye said softly. "You're bleeding all over. You're covered in blood, and with cuts..."

"What?" Edward opened his eyes. He rubbed at them with his left hand --

-- and, as a result, got blood smeared all over his face.

His vision cleared, just a little, and he looked down at his leg. It was there, but it was weak, and he couldn't stand on it for long. Then he took the chance and stared down at his right arm..

It was twisted.

"What..?" He sunk down to the floor.

"I'm sure that if we get a doctor to look at it, he'll be able to fix it," Alphonse offered.

"Edward, please come with me," Hawkeye said.

"But.."

Mustang strode over to him, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and threw him over his shoulder. Even Hawkeye looked bewildered at this display.

The Flame Alchemist glanced back at them. "You coming?"

"Yes, sir." Hawkeye regained her composure, and gestured for Alphonse to follow.

And while Edward lay, unconscious, in the hospital room, Hawkeye went to the nearest payphone and dialed the number hastily scribbled on a crumpled sheet of paper.

"Hello? This is Riza Hawkeye speaking." A pause, and a small smile formed on her lips. "Miss Rock -- no, Mrs. Elric." She closed her eyes, and the smile widened, just a bit, as she listened to the younger girl's reply. "Edward... is here." Another pause, longer. Hawkeye cut her off. "He's in the hospital."

Out of the corner of her eye, the blonde Lieutenant saw her superior emerging from Ed's hospital room, running a hand through his hair.

"I don't know what his situation is," Hawkeye said, sounding a tad regretful, "but I'm sure he'll be fine." Another stretch of silence. "He was bleeding all over." Winry asked her something on the other end of the line. "He has his real arm and leg back. But his arm is twisted." She stopped, unsure of what to say next. "Yes. Of course. That won't be a problem." She hung up.

Roy was waiting for her. "What did she say?" he asked.

"She was very worried, of course." Riza reached up behind her head. She'd tied the bun too tightly; it was beginning to hurt her face. In a quick, deft movement, she slid out the clip and her hair cascaded, falling into curls at her shoulder. "And she said she would be here as soon as she could."

"I see." Roy exhaled.

"What's his condition, sir?" Riza carefully concealed the worry in her voice.

"Extreme loss of blood. His leg is very weak, nothing a little rehab won't cure. His arm is broken, twisted. He'll have to wear a cast for a prolonged period of time. But he'll live." There was definitely more than just a little relief in his tone as he said that.

Hawkeye relaxed visibly. "I guess," she murmured, "somehow, when we weren't looking, he snuck into our lives and became more important than we ever would have thought."

Roy looked up at her. "He thinks of you as his mother. I can tell."

Surprise crossed her face. "He thinks of you as his father. In a way."

The expression on his face was priceless. "Well. How about that."

Riza reached up, clip in hand, about to put her hair up in a neat bun again. But a warm, strong hand encircled hers and grabbed the clip out of her reach. She gazed at him questioningly.

"Keep it down," was all he said.

And when Winry finally did arrive -- Trisha was left in the care of Pinako back at Resembool -- she was a mess. Nobody blamed her, and quietly let her into Ed's room. Edward was awake, but still very weak.

She knelt at his side, talking to him, forehead creased.

He smiled, weakly, and told her that he'd done it.

From the small glass, see-through opening at the door, Riza Hawkeye saw. And she knew that everything would be all right, and all would work itself out in the end.

---

On one occasion, Ed, Winry, and Trisha had paid Gracia and Elysia a visit. Elysia took excruciatingly gentle care with Trisha, and the adults smiled kindly down on them.

"How have you been, Mrs. Hughes?" Winry asked. When they looked around they still saw framed pictures of Maes Hughes, the man who had done so much for them.

"I've been good," Gracia replied, smiling. "How about you two? How's married life treating you?" Her eyes traveled to Edward's arm, still in a cast.

"Not much different," Edward answered, jokingly, "she still nags me all the time. She still yells at me all the time. But she doesn't hit me with her wrench as often, since Trisha's around."

Winry glared; Gracia laughed.

"It was really sweet of you to name her after Maes," said Gracia, a wistful smile appearing on her face. "I'm sure he's very honored."

"I know it," Ed replied.

The rest of the afternoon was spent eating snacks, and simply making conversation. When it was time for the Elrics to leave, Gracia stood at the front porch, waving goodbye. She could see their silhouettes, Winry pushing the stroller, Edward bending over to fluff a pillow.

"They're really cute, aren't they, honey?" She whispered into the sky.

---

Edward and Winry were overly protective of their only daughter. Which was why it had caused such an uproar when the couple had turned their back on her for a second at the grocery store, and had turned back to find her gone.

"Trisha?" Winry called out, apprehensively. "Trisha?"

"Hey, Trisha!" Edward ducked underneath the tables and stands, "Trisha!"

And finally, "TRISHA NINA MAES ELRIC!"

But there was no answer to any of these calls.

"Al!" Alphonse stared at the disheveled forms of his brother and sister-in-law, "Have you seen Trisha?"

He shook his head. "No.."

"Dammit." The Fullmetal Alchemist scowled.

"Ed!" Winry was near tears, "we have to find her!"

"I know!" And they took off.

Fifteen minutes later, the phone in Central rang wildly. Mustang picked it up.

"It's from Edward Elric, sir," said the operator.

"Go on," Mustang said, boredly. What had happened now?

"MUSTANG!" The dark-haired man held the phone away from his ear. Hawkeye glanced curiously at him.

"What, what? You don't have to scream, Fullmetal."

"WHERE'S TRISHA?!"

"I don't know," snapped Mustang. "I don't have time for this --" Edward's words suddenly sunk in. "Wait a minute. You're telling me that you lost your daughter?"

Hawkeye stood.

"WHERE THE HELL IS SHE, DAMMIT --"

"Fullmetal," Mustang said, briskly, "I don't have your daughter."

Considerably softer tone.

"I'm not going to send out my men to look for your daughter," said the Flame Alchemist, rolling his eyes. "Find her yourself."

Muffled yells from the phone.

"You're the one who lost her. Find her yourself." And he replaced the phone on the hook.

_Tap. Tap._

Then, eyeing Hawkeye, Havoc, Fury, and Breda, "You guys feel up for a trip to Resembool?"

Meanwhile:

"What if she was **kidnapped**?!"

"I'll let the poor sick bastard have it, that's what," Edward growled.

"But who would want to kidnap her?" Alphonse reasoned, "it's a fairly small town, and everybody knows who Trisha is. No one would dare to kidnap her."

"Where did you last see her?" Pinako asked.

"The...The bread aisle," Winry answered, furrowing her brow. "We looked everywhere. In every aisle."

Then the front door burst open, and in walked the military. The door had been ripped off its hinges, but that was on the bottom of everyone's priority list. Hawkeye cradled a sleeping Trisha in her arms.

"Trisha!" Her parents breathed a sigh of relief and ran, hearts pounding. "Oh, thank God.."

"Where was she?" Al asked.

"In the toys section." Breda slapped a hand to his forehead. "In that big toy chest. Playing with the balls and the dolls."

"We looked like a bunch of idiots, prying that thing open and trying to fit in there." Havoc fumbled for a cigarette.

"Thank God.." Winry repeated, breathless, kissing her daughter's forehead.

Mustang had planned to lecture them -- losing their own daughter, causing so much trouble -- but upon seeing Edward and Winry huddled over their sleeping daughter's form, fully relieved that she was all right, he decided...that perhaps that lecture could wait.

---

"This is really, really nice," Winry said, eyes closed, leaning against Edward's taller, stronger frame. They sat at the edge of the lake, bare feet in the water. Trisha was wading near the shallow end, where the water only came up to her waist.

"It is," Edward agreed. Back then, he'd wondered about how it would feel like to spend endless, lazy, summer days like this with her. And now, he could, and it was amazing.

"Did you ever think we'd end up this way?" Her cheeks were rosy.

"Like what?" he teased.

"As husband and wife," she answered, pointedly, eyes sparkling. "With a daughter."

He laughed. "Yeah."

She sat up. "You did?"

"Mm." He nodded. "Couldn't tell you why. Just knew."

The blonde automail mechanic ran her hands over his right hand. It felt smooth under her touch. It was still weak, but it was his arm, and it was what he had worked so hard for.

"You're gone through so much," she murmured. "Did I really help you out at all?"

He squeezed her hand tightly. "More than you'd ever imagine."

Later that day, when Al came to get them for dinner, he saw the three of them, Edward, Winry, and Trisha, wrapped in each other's arms, sleeping. He took the empty checkered picnic blanket and draped it over them. They'd gone through thick and thin, and in the end, had still ended up with each other.

He smiled, and let them sleep.

Hold me

Whatever lies beyond this morning is a little later on

Regardless of warnings

The future doesn't scare me at all

Nothing's like before...

End of "Snapshots of Them." Coincidentally, it's also the End of the Whole Story.

The song used is "Simple and Clean" by Utada Hikaru. I've had that song stuck in my head lately. This chapter had less intimacy, I think, but that's because in this chapter, it was primarily other people looking **at** Ed and Winry, thus the title, "Snapshots of Them." See? I actually thought things through! XD Snuck a little Roy/Riza in there. Could you tell?

Naruke-chaaaaaan! XD So glad you reviewed! Heeheeeee..; Takari-san, your name looked SO familiar as I was reading through my reviews. So I clicked on your name, skimmed through your story list, and then I realized... YOU'RE the one who wrote some of the CUTEST NejiTen stories I'd ever read!! ::is ecstatic::

THANK YOU, ALSO, TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED.

AAANNND... ::dances:: my computer is back, virus-free!


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